


Shaken Not Stirred

by shadowreamyx



Category: James Bond (Movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bartender AU, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-23 05:13:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/618480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowreamyx/pseuds/shadowreamyx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pulling out a crumpled parchment that he rolled between his fingers. “I don’t know about that, Eve, I may be calling that ‘Pussy Galore’.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Do you know what a cassis and soda means in the language of cocktails?” James purred, as a barely of age bimbo, shifted in her seat giggling. 

“No, I don’t,” She responded, her cheeks an odd shade of pink.

With a click of the tongue James responded, “It means, ‘you’re attractive’.” And as if it were on a cue all the girls erupted in a giggle. In the midst of it all Bond offered a wink to a waitress across the room, Moneypenny, who simply rolled eyes as she continued to write down an order.

From the corner of his eye Bond caught sight of a curly haired brunette at the end of the bar who had ordered a water but not spoken since. He was quickly dismissed.

 

“How many tips did you make tonight?” Eve asks, untying the mandatory, yet as she has stated multiple times before ‘tacky’, apron. 

“More than enough for me to finish paying this month’s rent,” Bond spoke in a dismissing tone as he shoved his hand into his pocket, digging around. “Don’t forget the sixteen phone numbers.”

Eve rolled her eyes, “Please, James, you won’t call a single one of those girls.” 

Pulling out a crumpled parchment that he rolled between his fingers. “I don’t know about that, Eve, I may be calling that ‘Pussy Galore’.” 

“James Bond, you are a pig.” 

 

“Today is slow; another customer would be a blessing.” Eve leaned her back against the bar; her gaze was lazily locked onto the entrance waiting for a customer. 

“Oh you should learn to value days like these, Moneypenny.” James retorted, resting his chin on the heel of his palm which he had propped up on the counter of the bar. 

As if God had heard their discussion a figure appeared, opening his arms out, with an ever present smirk. “James, James, how is my favourite bartender?” 

Bond’s nose wrinkled, shooting a glance at Eve. “Speak of the devil and he shall appear.” 

Moneypenny merely shook her head, walking back to her post with a curt smile. “Good day to you, Mr. Silva.” 

Raoul gave a slight nod at the female before pulling a seat up at the bar. “Tonight, I’d like for you to give me an _orgasm_.” A lazy smile was tugging at plump lips, arching an eyebrow, cocking his head slightly eyeing James. “Hmm?” 

“Fuck off,” Bond replied, already starting to gather everything he needed to mix the drink.

Silva pulled back is if he were wounded. “James, I am hurt. I thought we were developing something special.” 

“If by special you mean: you tip amazingly so I put up with your sexual harassment,” James slid the alcoholic drink to the Spaniard. “Then yes.” 

“Oh,” Silva leaned forward, puckering his lips slightly. “I do adore buying your love.” 

“Toleration.” 

“Give it time.” 

Bond leaned forward, narrowing his eyes on the blonde. “I want you to know that I loathe you.” 

Silva, taking the offer, leaned in, creating an uncomfortably close distance between himself and James. “And I tip you.” 

As if Raoul were infected James yanked away, scrunching his nose, turning his attention to others. 

 

While drying one of the glasses James’s gaze landed onto that familiar lad at the end of the bar. 

“Oi,” The wavy haired brunette perked up at the sound, looking around momentarily as to who could have addressed him.

“Hey, kid,” of course it was James. “are you even old enough to be in here?” 

“Eighteen as of yesterday, sir.” He replied in a flat tone; gaze apathetic as it met James’s. 

Momentarily pausing his drying, Bond eyed the boy. “You’ve been coming in here for a month.” 

“It does appear to be that way.” 

“You—” James pointed to the now of age male, “here—” finally James just gave what could be considered a smile in defeat. “What’s your name, kid?” 

“Q,” 

James perked a single brow while pouring a shot of scotch for Q. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.” Bond placed the shot in front of the younger male. “Here, on the house.” 

A small smile pulled at Q’s lips as he lifted the glass slightly towards James. “Cheers.”


	2. Chapter 2

James was counting the tips he had so far made for the night while Moneypenny was leaning herself against the counter top of the bar, breasts pressed together between her arms; Bond, not so secretly taking his fair share of glances.

“How can you stand him?” James asked, with a bit of venom in his voice as he shot a glance to their assistant manager.

“Hmm?” Eve followed his gaze, which landed on Gareth. “Oh, Mallory?”

“Yes,” Bond scrunched his nose. “The ass manager.” 

“Assistant Manager, James.”

“I’m shortening the word for my own convenience.” 

She shook her head, a smile pulling the corners of her mouth. “He’s really not that bad, you know.” 

A wave of customers started to slowly fill the humble pub; James flicked his hand at Eve in a ‘shooing’ manner. “Yes, yes, now, don’t you have a job to do?” 

 

“Is the Aston Martin out there yours, James?” Silva asked while lazily scanning his favourite bartender, who was mixing a drink for an older gent, bloody Mary, nothing too exquisite. 

“Aston Martin DB5,” James corrected, sliding the elder a drink before eying Raoul quite suspiciously. “What about it?” 

A snake-like smirk tugged at the corner of Silva’s mouth, eyes seeming to twinkle as he leaned further over the bar. “Oh nothing, nothing.” He pursed his lips in a flirtatious manner at James before speaking. “I just know how to appreciate a fine automobile.” Raoul crossed his legs, shifting in his seat. “I am quite the car connoisseur, you know.” 

“Really?” This actually sparked something in James’s interests, for a moment giving Silva his full attention. 

“Oh, yes, yes,” Silva pulled back, adjusting his cuff, “Maybe I can teach you a thing or two.” A wink, which James returned with a grimace. 

“How about you order another drink or get out?” 

“Oh, fine, fine,” Raoul released a hum in thought. “If you’re not one for orgasms how about we try…” Blue optics almost seemed to twinkle. “ _Sex on the beach_.”

A toss of the eyes. How did he know? James had already started absentmindedly grabbing the necessary components to the drink; what could be considered a smirk upon his lips. “And tomorrow I suppose you’d like a blow job?” 

“Oh, James, how did you know?” 

 

“Good god, Q!” Bond grunted, dragging the dead weight of the wavy haired brunette; attempting to give him enough support to walk. “Just because you’re legal does not mean you can get bloody drunk!” 

Q was giggling and sputtering out slurred nonsense when they finally made it to James’s car; Bond struggling to buckle him in. “I swear if you puke in this car—” 

“I’m not going to puke in your bloody _car_.” The brunette slurred out in a spat. “I don’t see why you have to take me to my flat. I could get there myself!” 

“Yes, of course,” James finally got the seat belt fastened across Q’s lanky form; feeling a minuscule of accomplishment, the elder pulled away, propping himself sluggishly against his car door. “Then we’d all see your dead body in a ditch on the telly.” With a smug look on his face Bond closed Q’s car door before getting himself settled. 

 

“How the _bloody hell_ did you _forget_ where you _lived_?” James asked, the irritation prominent in his voice; Q on the other hand, a drunken mess slouched into his seat.

“I don’t know, all these buildings look the same to me. I thought—I thought it was around here.” 

Tossing his head back, the off-duty bartender groaned. 

 

“So what does ‘Q’ actually stand for?” Bond finally asked, breaking the silence, cold sapphires glancing over at the brunette. 

The four-eyed man was playing with a tuff of his hair before releasing a ‘hm’, rolling his head lazily, managing to look back at James. 

“Quentin?” James inquired, lofting a brow. “Because if I were cursed with that name I’d go by Q as well.” 

 

“You know, James,” Q almost slurred out in a tune, which the elder did acknowledge with a hum. “You have the face of a majestic lion.” Of course Bond looked terribly confused, pursing his lips into a thin line as if he were either disturbed—or holding back laughter. 

Oh, but it only got worse. 

“And you have the shoulder width of a brachiosaurus.”

James wasn’t entirely sure how to take that one.

 

“Good God, Q, we’ve been driving for hours with no sign of your flat—the sun is nearly risen!” Bond complained, gripping the steering wheel in irritation. 

Q looked at him like he were daft when speaking, “I live a block down from the bar—I didn’t know your navigation skills were so incompetent.” 

A loud groan of frustration emitted from the Aston Martin. 

 

The majority of the drive back into the direction of the intoxicated male’s flat was spent in silence before the little drunk piped up once more.

“You know, James,” Q licked his dry lips, looking up at Bond. “This is the happiest I’ve been in awhile.” 

“Hn,”

“With you. Talking to you.” An almost melancholy smile tugged at the brunette’s lips. “Makes coming in worth while.” 

The car smoothly brought itself to a stop; the rose colored fingers of dawn slowly beginning to decorate the sky. “Seems we’ve arrived,” James reached over to unbuckle Q, looking up to meet the lad’s gaze, whose face was barely a nose length apart. 

There was a moment of silence which felt like an eternity. As always, time slowly began to move again.

“Good morning, Q,” Bond finally stated, pulling back slightly to where he’d be at eye level with the brunette; he flashed what could be considered a smile.

“Good morning, James.”


End file.
